


He Works Hard for the Money

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [33]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Poor Peter, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 01:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13893393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: Anonymous said: Peter has no money so he takes every odd job he gets (Babysitting, gardening, paper work, not so legal work).





	He Works Hard for the Money

Peter leaned back, wiping the sweat off his brow. Then he dug into the ground with his hands, surreptitiously letting his claws come out as he broke up the hardened soil. Then he carefully removed the large daylily bundle, separating the bulbs gently before returning the largest into the ground. The smaller ones he set aside for Cici’s sister.

“Wow, done already?” Cici asked, coming out of the house with a glass of lemonade which she offered him. Peter smiled charmingly as he took it, trying to ignore the way her eyes wandered up and down his body as he drank. Normally he wouldn’t mind the attention, but he was filthy and his present concern was her paying him. His social niceties were almost used up for the day and it was only eleven in the morning.

“I put the younger bulbs in the garage for your sister to pick up,” Peter informed her, trying to move the process along. She smiled flirtatiously and Peter held back a growl of annoyance.

“Always so diligent,” she attempted to purr. “Would you like to come in and cool off for a bit? I could make you something for lunch,” she offered.

Peter pointedly looked down at her wedding ring before giving her a deadpan look, raising a brow.

Cici blushed, curling her left hand close to hide the ring while digging the money from her pocket. “Right. Another time then,” she said, more flustered than flirtatious. Peter would take it as an improvement, wiping his hands on his jeans before taking the cash, counting to ensure full payment.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling, charm on once more. It was amazing what being able to afford food would do to one’s mood. “Same time in two weeks?” Peter asked. Cici, for all her inconveniences, was a regular, and Peter couldn’t afford to lose a regular.

“Yes. The bushes will need trimming by then, and we can start the summer schedule for mowing then,” Cici agreed.

Peter nodded. “Sounds like a plan. See you then.” He waved, keeping the pleasant look on his face until he turned the corner, brow furrowing.

He counted the cash in his pocket once more, trying to keep from scowling. She’d tipped him the normal amount, but recent events had led to him needing a couple new shirts and that was beyond his budget. He would probably have to skip a couple meals to keep the teenaged hellbringers from noticing. Not the first time he’d done it, but he hated being in such a state.

Technically, Peter was rich. But also technically, Peter was missing. Until he could get his paperwork in order and come up with a sound alibi on how a coma patient walked from the hospital and was perfectly fine without so much as a scar, he was in No-Man’s land. Derek certainly wasn’t going to help him (or more, Peter wasn’t going to ask him) and Peter wasn’t about to beg anyone for anything. It was frustrating having to take any odd job he could find that would pay him cash under the table and he did, unfortunately, have to go without on most things, but he was surviving.

Peter was nothing if not a survivor.

…

Ms. Kingsly was an elderly woman with generous pockets and no family. She hired him as a handyman officially, but Peter found the she mostly just wanted some company. She paid him hourly though, so he was willing to linger and listen to her prattle on about her late husband if it got him some free food and a few extra bucks.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, dear,” she said, wrinkled face smiling kindly as Peter checked the replaced cupboard to make sure it didn’t squeak anymore.

“Always a pleasure,” he returned, flashing a smirk.

She tittered and swatted his arm. “Come now, let me get some food in you. I made some chicken and dumplings last night and made far too many. They were my Gerald’s favorite. I used to always make a pot full for him to take for his lunch for a few days and I can’t seem to break the habit.”

Peter hummed in agreement, following her into the kitchen. There was a reason he always tried to stop by Mrs. Kingsly’s around lunch. The woman was an excellent cook.

“Maybe before you leave you could look at the back window? I wanted to open it last weekend with the breeze we had but it’s stuck something awful. Oh, but I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got something to get to,” she said.

“I’m never too busy for you,” Peter drawled, sitting at the table. “Probably just needs some elbow grease.” He winked teasingly and she chuckled, shaking her head.

“You’re a dangerous man, Peter,” she said, bringing him a plate. “Why if I was a few decades younger,” she trailed off with a sly smile, shaking her head. “Besides, I’m sure you’ve got a lovely woman at home for you,” she added breezily, before pausing. “Or a man. I don’t aim to judge in these times, dearie.”

Peter chuckled. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid I’m quite single,” Peter revealed, happily digging into the plate of food.

Mrs. Kingsly tutted, setting a glass of iced tea on the table before sitting across from him. “Well I suppose that’s your decision, pity be it for the world.”

Peter laughed, genuinely pleased. The woman was quite the firecracker at times and Peter didn’t hate her company.

Peter didn’t count the money she gave him until he was two blocks down the road. He smiled when he saw an extra tip, financial security a pleasure all of its own. He really did like that woman.

…

Peter eyed the man in front of him, crossing his arms and raising a brow, unimpressed.

“You get half the payment now and the other half once it’s done,” the man said.

“I get all of the payment now or the job doesn’t get done,” Peter corrected, barely refraining from flashing his fangs. “That was very clear under my initial terms.”

“Look, we’re not going to risk–”

Peter turned away, ignoring the man’s squawk of indignation behind him as he started walking.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“You pay my fee or I leave,” Peter said simply, glancing over his shoulder as he paused. “I don’t play games. If you don’t have the money, I’m not interested. Find someone else if you’re bargain shopping. I do things right, not cheap.”

The man huffed in irritation. “Other people in your situation–”

“Are not me,” Peter cut off, the tiniest bit of a growl edging through into his voice. “If you want someone else, then go for it.  _My_  terms are full payment up front.”

The man scowled. “Fine,” he spat, grabbing a couple stacks of cash from his jacket to make the other half of the payment, slamming them on the table with the rest. “But we want this done within the week.”

“Do you want this done quickly or correctly?” Peter said, moving to count the money carefully. “If you want this to look like an accident as you originally said, it’ll take a minimum of three weeks. I’ve got to learn the man’s routine before just straight killing him.”

“This better be flawless,” the man spat angrily. “Fine. Whatever time you need. But we’ll find you if you just take the money and run.”

Peter grinned, letting some of his wolf out. The man’s heart picked up and Peter could scent his fear.

“Consider him dead,” Peter agreed, pocketing the cash and turning away.

Two weeks later, Gavin Mavericks was listed in the obituaries as having died in a freak car accident. A tree had suddenly fell on his car just out of town, crushing him. The police couldn’t find out why the tree had fallen and could’ve sworn it looked like an animal had clawed up the base, but they scratched it off as Beacon Hills just being weird as always.

The next time Peter was at the bar, sipping on a whiskey straight that he’d spiked with wolfbane, a man walked by and furtively slid a stack of bills into his pocket. Peter quirked a brow, smirk intact, and raised his glass in a silent toast.

“We’ll contact you when next we need your services,” the man murmured lowly, nodding towards Peter before slipping out the back door of the bar. Peter downed his whiskey slapping a bill on the counter to cover his tab and offer the bartender a nice tip.

He was really growing to appreciate tip culture.

…

“Peter! Thank god you’re here!”

Peter was swept into the house, almost dazed by the flurry of activity that was Sindi Gergji.

“The babysitter is running a little late, something about car trouble, but I need to get to work immediately. I know you’re just here to look at the water pump, but could you watch Paisley and Anna-Lynn for me? Just until the sitter gets here? I’ll pay you extra,” she promised, looking absolutely frazzled.

“Sure,” Peter agreed. Sindi’s kids were four and seven. He could deal with them for a couple hours.

“You’re a god-send,” she said, grabbing his arm and squeezing in thanks before leading him to the living room where the two girls were watching TV. “Okay, girls! Mommy’s got to go to work but Mr. Peter’s going to watch you until Stiles gets here.”

_Stiles?!_

Peter almost went into a coughing fit in surprise, barely managing to keep from saying that aloud.

_Well shit._

Both girls turned to him, visibly sizing him up. Peter stood without bending, eyes daring them to try him.

“Now be good, girls,” Sindi said, hugging them both. “I love you! Listen to Mr. Peter!”

And then she was gone.

Now perhaps it had been awhile, but Peter had been responsible for young kids before. It was kind of like riding a bike; you just never forgot some things.

“Have you girls had breakfast?” He asked.

“Stiles always makes us Mickey pancakes,” Paisley, the older girl, said with a haughty scoff, obviously not expecting him to be able to compete.

“How about I make unicorn pancakes?” Peter suggested as a one-up. He refused to play second fiddle to a seventeen year old, even if he wasn’t aiming to be their regular babysitter.

Anna-Lynn gave him an amazing side-eye for a four year old. “Can you  _reall_ y?” She asked with all the suspicion of someone who’d been lied to multiple times. Peter almost laughed. These kids were great.

“I sure can,” he said, smirking. “And if your mom has sprinkles, I can make rainbow whipped cream to go with it.”

“I know where the sprinkles are!” Anna-Lynn offered, jumping to her feet.

“Can we help?” Paisley asked, moving to stand as well.

“Sure,” Peter shrugged, heading for the kitchen.

…

Stiles used his key to get in the Gergji residence, wiping his feet on the mat.

“Girls?” He called out, smelling pancakes the air. He was about an hour and a half late, so he guessed the person Sindi had gotten to cover had made the girls breakfast.

“Stiles!” Anna-Lynn called and Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he entered the kitchen only to be hit in the midsection by the excitable four year old. “Mr. Peter made  _unicorn pancakes_!” she yelled at him.

“With  _rainbow whipped cream_ ,” Paisley input, still at the table as she stabbed at a bite of food.

“We helped!” Anna-Lynn stressed.

“And we saved you some,” a distinctly male voice added. Stiles stiffened, eyes widening in surprise as he turned to see Peter Hale at the sink washing dishes.

“What…” Stiles began, not even sure where he was going with the sentence, too shocked to compute.

“Try them! Try them!” Anna-Lynn tugged Stiles by his hand to the table where a plate of perfectly unicorn-shaped pancakes sat. Paisley reached over into a bowl and grabbed a spoon to put a dollop of rainbow whipped cream on top.

Stiles felt he had little choice but to sit, taking a bite of the food under their vibrating stares. “Wow! They’re good!” he exclaimed.

“Of course,” Peter said, rolling his eyes and smirking confidently. Stiles decided to keep eating, ignoring the man’s remark.

“Mr. Peter let us make the whipped cream,” Paisley informed him, very seriously. “And he told us to wait to add it until you got here so it wouldn’t melt.”

Stiles nodded. “That was very smart,” he said just as seriously, ignoring Peter’s look. Stiles wasn’t going to skimp on his level of childcare just to please the guy’s urge to throw him off his game. Paisley was seven and extremely bright, she just needed someone to explain things to her at a level she’d understand and then listen when she tried to teach it back. Paisley smiled, pleased.

“Did you girls want to go outside and play softball after we clean up?” Stiles asked, voting to ignore the Peter factor for now. He wasn’t sure how to respond so he was going with no response for now. Better to not have a scene in front of the girls anyways.

“Can we play soccer instead? We have an even number this time so we could play equally,” Paisley asked. “Me and Mr. Peter against you and Anna-Lynn.”

Anna-Lynn latched onto Stiles’ side, almost shaking with her excitement. “Please?” She asked Stiles, looking up with bright eyes. “Pretty please?”

“Ah, well, um,” Stiles hesitated, looking over at Peter. “Did you have something you needed to do?”

“I need to look at the water pump and change the filter,” Peter said, watching as both girls literally slumped in disappointment. He sighed. “But I can do that while you three finish washing up. I should be done about the same time; it won’t take long. Then we can play.”

“Yay!” Paisley cheered.

“Yay, yay!” Anna-Lynn echoed, clapping.

Stiles smiled, mouthing ‘Thank you’ from behind the excited girls’ backs. Peter nodded, watching the girls with an almost wistful look on his face. Stiles couldn’t help but think about the Hale kids that had been in the fire, biting his lip to keep from saying something stupid, wondering if Peter was thinking about his family. No doubt that would’ve been the last time Peter had had to take care of such small children. It left the taste of ashes in Stiles’ mouth so he stuffed his mouth full of another bite of pancake to keep words from coming out.

…

“Mr. Peter, we’ve got to win,” Paisley told him earnestly. “Stiles always cheats to help Anna-Lynn, but he can’t if you’re here.”

“Hey! I don’t cheat!” Stiles denied.

“You give her a hani- handdie- hand-i-cap,” she sounded out slowly, brow furrowed in concentration as she worked to get the word out correctly, “because she’s little. But she can’t win all of the time. That won’t build carrot- cara- char-ac-ter.” She finished with a huff, nodding to herself.

Peter chuckled. “That’s very intelligent of you,” he agreed. “Alright.”

Stiles glared. “I don’t  _cheat_ ,” he stressed, grabbing the ball.

“Surely not our Stiles,” Peter purred, laughing when Stiles blushed furiously.

“I didn’t mean to accuse you,” Paisley said solemnly, biting her lip and shuffling her feet. “I just don’t like losing all the time.”

“That’s alright, little bear,” Stiles said, crouching down. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad either. It’s okay to want to win.”

Paisley nodded, visibly steeling herself. Peter couldn’t resist ruffling her hair gently, smirking when she glowered up at him. He leaned down, whispering conspiratorially. “Don’t worry; we’ll win,” he promised her. She grinned.

For just a moment, Peter saw Cora. He shook it off, returning the grin and ignoring the smell of smoke that lingered whenever he thought about before.

Anna-Lynn clapped her hands, taking the ball from Stiles. “Play ball!” she yelled, before kicking the ball towards the two trees that were her and Stiles’ own goal.

“No, no, Anna, the  _other_  way!” Stiles laughed, running to get the ball before it went through the trees.

Peter shoved down anything to do with his family and jogged over to help Paisley steal the ball from Stiles.

…

“Hey, you need a ride?” Stiles asked hours later, after Sindi had returned and relieved them of duty. After playing soccer for a couple hours, they all cleaned up and eaten a late lunch before settling in for a movie. Somehow Peter had been talked into staying, watching the newest Disney movie and secretly enjoying the songs both girls belted out horribly off-key. Then Paisley had cuddled between him and Stiles on the couch while Anna-Lynn had stretched over both their laps, both falling asleep before the end. They finished the movie anyways though because Peter had become invested in the ending and Stiles said it was one of his favorites. That was the scene Sindi had come in on, smiling at the sight and gratefully paying both Stiles and Peter for staying so long.

“I can walk,” Peter denied.

“Come on, dude,” Stiles refuted, rolling his eyes and getting into his jeep. He glanced at the passenger seat pointedly.

Peter shook his head though he had a tiny smile on his face. “Okay,” he agreed, climbing in.

“That was fun today,” Stiles offered, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah…it was,” Peter allowed.

“You going to swear me to secrecy?” Stiles teased.

Peter laughed. “As if anyone would believe you,” he said.

“You totally loved Moana, dude. Don’t lie.”

“It was a good movie,” Peter relented. “Better than Sleeping Beauty, anyhow. That was Anastasia’s favorite. She was Talia’s youngest. She wanted to watch it all the time.” Peter looked down the window away from Stiles, breathing deeply to stave off the pain that came from remembering.

“You should see the remake,” Stiles offered gently. “‘Maleficent’ is badass.”

Peter chuckled and denied the thickness in his throat. “She probably would’ve liked it then,” he murmured.

“Hey, Peter?” Stiles asked as they got closer to Derek’s loft where Peter was staying. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m surviving,” Peter murmured, hating the vulnerability that crept into his voice. Hating that he trusted Stiles with this information. Stiles may have been human, but he was more Pack than any of the wolves.

Stiles didn’t say anything, just reached over the middle console to squeeze Peter’s forearm. Peter huffed, collecting himself as they drew nearer the loft. He didn’t remove his arm out from under Stiles’ touch until he had to get out of the jeep.

He felt that said enough.


End file.
